


sitting pretty in my brand new scars

by blackkat



Series: Crazy=Genius [5]
Category: Bleach, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Mentioned Racism, Reunions, by wizards against magical beings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22049788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Bazz gets some backup. He gets some unexpected surprises, too, but at least they're not all bad.
Relationships: Abarai Renji & Bazz-B, Bazz-B (Bleach) & Harry Potter, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques & Bazz-B
Series: Crazy=Genius [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/996066
Comments: 81
Kudos: 1394





	sitting pretty in my brand new scars

“You know, Black, I'm not _actually_ your babysitter,” Giselle says, crossing her arms over her chest.

Bazz rolls his eyes. “You bitch at me about staying in my apartment, you bitch about having to meet somewhere, you bitch about me _coming_ to your apartment,” he says. “Is there anything you won't bitch about?”

With a smirk, Giselle swoops in to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I have to keep you on your toes, Black,” she retorts. “Otherwise you might stop appreciating me. Morning, Harry.”

“Morning,” Harry says, and the little traitor is hiding a grin.

“I _don’t_ appreciate you,” Bazz tells Giselle. “You're a pain in the ass and you're _picky_.”

“I'm also taking care of Harry while you're off on your mysterious secret errand.” Arching one pale brow at him, Giselle waves a hand. “Come on, cough it up.”

Bazz sighs, aggrieved and annoyed, and fishes around in his bag for a moment. He comes up with Giselle’s specified tribute and slaps it into her hand. “Scotch, aged fifteen years, and it cost me my _other_ fucking arm, so you’d better enjoy it. But not while you're watching Harry.”

“Harry's perfectly responsible,” Giselle says airily. She checks the label, then tucks the bottle under her arm and smirks. “All right, tithe accepted. Come in, Harry, it’s lovely to see you again.”

“Lovelier with a drink?” Harry asks, grinning openly now. He slips past her into her apartment, then gives Bazz a wave.

Giselle hum. “Well, I won't be drinking quite yet, it’s only morning for me. But it is a _beautiful_ bottle of scotch.” When she sees Bazz open is mouth, she rolls her eyes. “Quiet, Black, I'm not about to drink while I'm babysitting. I've got some sense.”

She’s also the only other person Bazz knows who can throw fire, and Sirius’s words about Pettigrew still being a threat are clawing under Bazz’s skin, so he takes a breath and nods. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks, tight.

Giselle’s eyes narrow faintly, but she tips her head. “Why don’t you go put your stuff on the sofa,” she tells Harry. “I was just about to make lunch, if you're hungry.”

“Sure,” Harry says, with the eternal appetite of an eleven-year-old boy. “Thanks, Giselle. Bye, Bazz.”

“Later,” Bazz says, stepping back to give Giselle room.

“It’s no trouble, Harry,” she says warmly, then steps out into the hall, pulling the door shut behind her. Facing Bazz, she raises a brow, and asks, “What’s wrong?”

Bazz sighs, drags a hand through his loose hair. “Look,” he says gruffly, “I—Sirius Black said it’s possible someone is going to be coming after Harry.”

Giselle is silent for a long moment. “It makes sense,” she offers, watching Bazz. “You’ve seen how the English are about the Boy Who Lived. I can’t imagine the blighted bastard’s remaining followers are all that happy about it.” She stops, eyes widening for an instant before they narrow again, and she says sharply, “If you think I can’t protect Harry, or that I wouldn’t—”

Bazz grimaces. “That’s not what I mean at _all_ ,” he snaps, and tugs at his hair, frustrated. “You’re better at handling the drunks at Emmaline’s than any bouncer in Peckham,” he says. “I’m not worried about you in a fight, Giselle. But if something did happen and someone died, you’d—”

“Oh,” Giselle says softly, and the tension in her eases faintly. Her smile, when it comes, is quick and crooked. “You mean I’m a Veela, and if I kill someone, the Ministry will execute me as a dangerous magical creature, rather than treating me like a human.”

“Yeah,” Bazz says gruffly, and looks away, shoving his fist deeper into his jacket pocket. Executions like that just make him think of Yhwach and the way he conquered, all the bodies he left behind him, just because people were lesser if they didn’t believe he was their god. “The Ministry’s fucking stupid.” He glances back, holding Giselle’s gaze, and says, “I know we already set up today, but—say the word and I’ll find someone else.”

Giselle frowns, tipping her head as she considers. “Him being the Boy Who Lived might work in my favor here,” she says wryly. “The papers would probably run it as _magical creature saves Harry Potter_ rather than _dangerous beast kills wizard_.”

“Giselle—”

“Bazz, shut up,” Giselle says, not unkindly, and Bazz closes his mouth. She waits a moment to be sure he’s listening, and then says, “I’m a Veela. The only reason I have a wand is because my halfblood cousin left it to me in her will. The Ministry sees me as exactly the same as a Manticore, and just as dangerous.” Her tone softens, and she leans in, closing her fingers in the collar of Bazz’s shirt, shaking him lightly. “Bazz. Thank you for leaving it my choice. But I like Harry, and if someone comes for him, I’m going to stop them. Screw the whole damn Ministry. I know what I am, even if they don’t.”

“I _know_ that,” Bazz says, frustrated. “And then afterwards—”

“Afterwards,” Giselle says lightly, “I’d rely on you to smuggle me out of the country and get me back to Brazil. All right? I’ll babysit Harry whenever you need, but that’s the bargain.”

“That’s a fucking awful bargain,” Bazz mutters, pulling her hand away. “You’re so stupid. Why does Vance even _like_ you?”

“Vance isn’t the only one who likes me,” Giselle says merrily, and turns her hand to grip his, squeezing his fingers before letting go. “And now I have _proof_. You’re _worried_ about me, _ha_.”

“I’m worried about losing a free babysitter,” Bazz shoots back. “And you don’t have anything, shut the hell up.”

“I have _everything_ ,” Giselle taunts. “This memory is going right in my Penseive. I’m never going to give it up.”

Bazz growls, reaching for her with the intent to strangle, but Giselle grabs his wrist, grinning. Feathers are starting to sprout in her hair, a warning, and a part of Bazz wants to _see_ what a Veela’s control of fire is like compared to his own. There’s a whole apartment building around them that says that’s a bad idea, though, and Bazz is short on time anyway.

“You’re a badly barbequed chicken,” he huffs, and Giselle snorts.

“And you got your head stuck in a bag of fairy floss and decided to call it hair,” she retorts.

“My hair is _perfect_ ,” Bazz snaps, wounded, and turns on his heel. “I’m leaving. Don’t let your roommate eat Harry.”

“Don’t pick a fight with something bigger than you, or I get to laugh at your funeral,” Giselle calls after him, and Bazz pointedly flips her off and takes the stairs down.

His nerves are humming under his skin, and Giselle’s response to a possible threat isn’t helping.

Blowing out a breath, Bazz scrubs his gloved hand over his face, then grits his teeth. He hates the thought of Giselle protecting Harry and being murdered by the Ministry for it. Hates even more that he’s leaving Harry with her anyway, because he has one sort-of friend in all of England and she’s able to hold her own in a fight. Harry in danger isn’t something he can allow. Giselle in danger is unpleasant, but at least she’s a grown woman and can take care of herself against most things.

Just—not the Ministry.

It had felt like a kick in the chest, when Bazz opened the _Prophet_ to a story about a sphinx killing a wizard and realized two paragraphs in that the sphinx had been executed on site by Aurors, regardless of the fact that the wizard had been trying to kidnap her. _Feral and too dangerous to capture_ , the article had said, and Bazz could only think that he’d be feral too if someone tried to toss a magic net over his head and drag him away. And then he’d looked into things, and—

Veela are classified as Beings, but they’re still magical creatures. More vulnerable, even, for the classification, because they’re considered intelligent enough to know and follow laws, but subject to the same punishments as dragons and hippogriffs and unicorns. Execution. Murder, only sanctioned.

Gritting his teeth, Bazz forces himself forward. He doesn’t think about the stories he heard whispered about Ishida, that one of the Shinigami captains had his entire family executed just for existing and being Quincies. Doesn’t think about his parents, burned alive just because they believed something different than what Yhwach wanted them to. Doesn’t dwell, doesn’t let himself remember, but takes the stairs down to the street and picks up his pace. There’s a public Floo three blocks down, and he ducks inside the hidden shop, waves to the owner, and drops his knut in the jar before taking a handful of Floo powder and tossing it in.

“Peckham Rye Park,” he calls, and the green flames flare. Bazz steps in, feels the wrenching spin, and has half a moment to wonder why every mode of transportation wizards come up with is at least mildly terrible before he’s being spit out into open air. The circle of stones around the firepit almost trips him, but he catches his balance and touches his hand to his Quincy cross. The pendant dangles free, outside his shirt, and Bazz _really_ doesn’t want to use it, but he trusts one of the Special War Powers about as far as he can kick him. Urahara’s crazy. Usefully crazy, but putting his faith in the man is too far even for Bazz, no matter how reckless he can be.

It was one thing when Yhwach was taking over Soul Society and everything was crumbling, the Shinigami in need of every ally they could get. Here, now, years later? Bazz makes a pretty nice target, and he’s not about to let his guard down.

If this goes wrong, at the very least Harry is with Giselle. At the very least Giselle knows who Harry is and that there’s a danger, and she’s close to Vance. Vance knew Harry's parents, seems to like Harry himself well enough, and she’s got connections. They’ll take care of him, and Bazz doesn’t have to risk leading any Shinigami or Arrancar back to somewhere Harry will be.

Rolling his neck, Bazz drags a hand over his hair one last time, takes a breath, and checks for people before he steps out onto the dirt path. The wizarding world has taken possession of this corner of the park, filling it with magical flora, and Bazz warily skirts something that looks a little too venomous and a little too sentient for his tastes, instead scanning the winding walk. No sign of anyone strange, but then, Bazz is early. He’d wanted to have plenty of time to find a spot to stick Harry if Giselle had done the sensible thing and backed out. Not that he should have been expecting _sensible_ from her, clearly.

A tangle of trees up ahead provides plenty of cover, while still being open enough that Bazz can sense people approaching, so he cuts across the grass, takes the next path over, and slips into the woods. There's a bridge with a decent vantage point of the trails on either side, so he parks himself there, leaning against the weathered stone. The visibility itches like a vulnerability, but Bazz forces himself to stillness, closes his eyes, and focuses on the steady thrum of the reishi he’s been gathering for several days now. It’s a drain, holding it ready, but the World of the Living has a hell of a lot less of the stuff than Bazz is used to, and like fuck he’s going to let himself go into a meet with _Hollows_ unprepared.

“This is fucking stupid,” Bazz mutters to himself, but doesn’t move.

He has family. He has family beyond just Harry. Sirius is an innocent man in Azkaban, though, with Dementors slicing pieces of his soul off every time they drift past. Bazz doesn’t like that much. The reishi he stuck to Sirius will keep him safe for a while, but eventually it will fade, and then he’ll be fair game again. Given how slowly getting his case reopened is going, Bazz doesn’t want to put his trust in the reishi outlasting the drag of the courts. This is the best alternative.

Besides, it sure as hell is going to feel good to blow some shit up and burn a few Dementors into ash.

The sudden surge of reiatsu flaring to life in a place with little of it is about as noticeable as an explosion, but Bazz just lifts his head, doesn’t try to move. It’s back a ways, in the Muggle areas, and Bazz watches the paths as the new arrivals approach. He curls his fingers against the stone, breathes, and reminds himself that even if this is a trap, even if this is ends with them trying to take him in and tracking him back to his apartment, Harry's well out of the way and they won't be able to find him.

“Well, well,” a voice says from right behind him, but Bazz doesn’t flinch. Just turns, deliberate, and glares at Urahara's grin. “It looks like you are indeed Sternritter H. How unexpected.”

“Bazz-B!” Renji, half a pace behind him, says, and his grin is almost blinding. He ducks past Urahara, and Bazz has half a second to brace for an attack before he’s hauled up and—

Into a crushing, rib-creaking hug.

Blinking, Bazz stares at the side of Renji’s head, then, feeling bewildered, lifts his hand and tentatively pats Renji on the back. “Uh. Hi?”

Renji drops him back on his feet, then pulls away just enough to punch him in the shoulder. “You _asshole_ ,” he says loudly. “We thought Jugram killed you! I looked for you everywhere after the invasion.”

He did? Bazz frowns, because Urahara mentioned that, but Urahara's a weirdo. He could have been lying, but—apparently not this time.

“He didn’t,” he says, maybe a little bitterly. “But not for lack of trying.”

Renji grimaces, and he looks like he knows far too well what Bazz means. “If it helps,” he says, “Jugram died saving Ishida, so that Ishida could go help Ichigo.”

Bazz knew from the minute he opened his eyes in the aftermath that Jugram was dead. There was no way Jugram would have let Yhwach die without putting his body between Yhwach and a blow. The words still have teeth, though, biting deep into Bazz's chest, and he grimaces, rubs a hand over his face to hide his expression. “He saved Ishida? How?”

“They fought,” Renji says. “And then afterwards he reversed the damage he’d done and took Ishida’s wounds.”

“That sounds like him,” Bazz says, rough. “Fucking _asshole_.”

Because of course Jugram had to push all the way down a path of bad decisions before realizing that maybe he could mitigate his own damage. Never mind that if he thought about things a bit, reflected a little, he could have avoided the whole thing to begin with. For someone so smart, Jugram was always dumb as shit.

“Yeah,” Renji says, quiet, and when Bazz lifts his head there’s something like sympathy on Renji’s face. He tries for a crooked smile, and says, “We didn’t find his body, either, but—I didn’t give a shit at that point.”

Because he thought Jugram killed Bazz. Despite himself, Bazz feels a flicker of humor, bright and quick. Renji’s pretty damn decent, as Shinigami go. “Kurosaki kicked Yhwach’s ass?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Renji confirms, and that grin has _teeth_. “Kicked it so hard his past lives probably all felt it, too.”

Vengeance, Bazz thinks, and there’s the smell of ashes in his nose, sharp and rancid, like he’s still standing in the ruins of his parents’ house, digging through the ashes to find their bodies. Yhwach trapped them in their own home and burned them alive, and Bazz has wanted to kill him for a thousand years.

(He wonders, sometimes, just how much control Yhwach had over the abilities he granted. Wonders why he, of all the Sternritter, was given fire, and if it was some sick, twisted reminder of his parents to carry with him every day, and if Yhwach was making a point of turning Bazz into his own thing, his own monster, to be used to burn down his enemies the same way he’d once burned down Bazz's country.

He’d asked Jugram once, when he was drunk and lonely and belligerent with it, but Jugram had told him coldly that he should be grateful he’d reached the rank of Sternritter to being with and walked away.

Far, far too many of their interactions always ended with Jugram walking away, including the very last.)

“Fucking _good_ ,” he says, vicious, and looks past Renji. Urahara is watching them from under the shadow of his hat, but Bazz doesn’t pause on him, because there’s another man behind him. Gigai, Bazz thinks, because the sense of it is weird, but—that’s definitely a Hollow soul. Blue-haired, tall, with his arms crossed over his chest and narrowed eyes, and Bazz steps around Renji and meets that assessing stare.

“You're the Arrancar?” he asks.

The Hollow bares his teeth at him. “Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, former Sexta Espada,” he says, and looks him up and down. “The asshole said you needed someone to wreck shit.”

Bazz snorts. “There are some things off the coast that eat souls,” he says. “One piece at a time. I want to wipe them out.”

Blue brows rise, and Grimmjow cocks his head. “Eating souls, huh?” he asks, and there’s a grin spreading over his face, dangerous and hungry. “You think I could eat them in return?”

“You might get indigestion,” Bazz says, dry. “But you sure as hell can try. I’ll shoot them, and you can eat them.”

Grimmjow snickers. “Sounds good.”

“I hope you don’t mind collateral damage,” Urahara says, amused. “There will likely be quite a bit.”

Bazz snorts. “Look who you're talking to,” he retorts, and offer Grimmjow his hand. “Don’t get in my way, or I’ll shoot you in the ass, Arrancar.”

“And don’t get in mine, or I’ll use your head as a bowling ball, Quincy.” Grimmjow’s handshake is a pissing contest, but Bazz gives as good as he gets.

Urahara laughs, light and airy. Bazz has the uncharitable thought that it bears passing resemblance to Meninas’s laugh, but even Urahara probably doesn’t deserve the comparison. “Oh my!” he says. “It seems you're getting along well. I suppose that will relieve Ichigo.”

Right. Because this is one of the Arrancar who fought for Ichigo in the war, and like hell the kid Bazz met would take it lying down if someone threatened an ally. Bazz grimaces, at the same moment as Grimmjow scoffs and says, “I can look after my own fucking self, and Kurosaki can keep his damned nose out of it.”

“I'm not planning anything,” Bazz tells Urahara, annoyed. “I just want these Dementors to fuck off to wherever they come from, and this place isn't Soul Society. There’s not exactly a shit-ton of reishi in the air.”

“Good thing you called for backup, then,” Renji says cheerfully, clapping him on the back. “We’re—”

“ _We’re_? I asked for an Arrancar to help me, not some prissy Shinigami! I don’t care how cool your tats are—”

“You think my tattoos are _cool_? You're so nice—!”

“Fuck off! Why the hell are you staying too?”

“Ichigo asked me to,” Renji says, without hesitation and without shame. He jerks a thumb at Grimmjow, who looks like he’s debating biting it off, and says, “Look, _I_ think you're not about to lock him in your basement and experiment on him, but Ichigo's fond of him, so I'm just sticking around to make sure you don’t get a pissy soon-to-be-captain knocking down walls and demanding your daily planner, all right?”

Bazz grimaces. “Like anyone can afford a basement in London,” he says, and sighs, resigned. “Shit. Whatever. But the same applies for you—get in my way and I shoot you in the ass.”

Renji smirks. “Only if your aim’s gotten better.”

Bazz narrows his eyes at him. “I changed my mind. I'm dumping you in the North Sea the minute I get the chance. Grimmjow?”

Grimmjow snickers. “Like hell I need a babysitter. I'm down for it.”

“Great,” Bazz says sourly, and turns a dark look on Urahara. “If you're staying, too, I'm calling this whole thing off right now.”

Urahara chuckles. “I'm just the deliveryman,” he says brightly, raising his hands. It would be more convincing of his innocence if Bazz didn’t know _exactly_ what that cane was capable of. “I assume you kept my number, Bazz-B. Call me when you’ve finished with your mission and I’ll come pick them up.” A pause, deliberate, and he tips his hat back a little and smiles. “Should you fail to call, I’ll have to assume the worst and call in some…less restrained assistance.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Bazz says, fully irritated now. “I'm not here to hurt anyone but the Dementors. This is personal, or I wouldn’t be asking for help.”

“Of course, of course.” Urahara beams at him, then waves a hand and steps away. “Good luck, boys! Try not to get murdered!”

Grimmjow flips him off as he starts back down the path, then huffs and turns to Bazz. “So? Where’s this fight you promised me?”

Bazz snorts. “Up north, in the middle of the ocean. Getting there’s going to take some work unless you're hiding an ability to teleport shoved up your ass. Hope you don’t mind alternative modes of transportation.”

“Is this about the whole magic thing?” Renji asks, and when Bazz turns to leave the park, he falls into step. Grimmjow brings up the rear, looking disinterested and rather like he just happens to be walking in the same direction. “The captain was saying something about England and crazy shit. Well, he didn’t say _that_ , but if Captain Kuchiki thinks something is weird…”

Bazz doesn’t look at him. “My mother was from here,” he says. “Yeah, it’s fucking weird. Just—go with it.”

“Can't be weirder than any of the shit Szayel pulled,” Grimmjow mutters, and a moment later he falls in on Bazz's other side as they head back towards the public Floo. “How long’s this going to take?”

“Got an appointment?” Bazz retorts, shoving his hand back into his pocket and closing his fingers around the plastic baggie there. He’s probably got enough Floo powder to get them all back to his apartment. Maybe. “Look, getting where we’re going is _illegal_ , so it’s going to take me a couple hours to get everything together.” Knockturn Alley’s got enough people willing to make an illegal Portkey that it’s not a problem finding someone, but it’s not like Bazz can pay for a rush job here. He had to borrow money from Vance against his next paycheck as it is.

Even then, the best he can do is get them _close_. Getting right to Azkaban’s going to mean using reishi, and Bazz doesn’t like having to dip into stores he’s built up for fighting just for travel.

Still. Sirius is mostly sane right now, but too much longer with the Dementors picking at his soul will probably change that. Bazz might not have a lot left, but—he can still feel loyalty.

Everything he’s done in the last thousand years has been for the sake of avenging his family. Protecting family makes for a nice change.

The fire in the small ring of stones is still crackling when Bazz pauses in front of it. He looks at the fire, then at Renji and Grimmjow, and feels a vindictive sort of amusement rise. “All right, assholes, grab onto me, tuck your elbows in, and whatever you do, don’t let go.”

Grimmjow’s eyes narrow, while Renji’s widen. “What?” Grimmjow asks, and it’s almost a threat.

Bazz grins at both of them, showing teeth. “Welcome to the weird. Come on, I don’t have all day.”

“I'm going to want to kick your ass for this, aren’t I?” Grimmjow demands, but he reaches out, grips Bazz's upper arm despite his sour expression.

“Only if you’re a pussy,” Bazz shoots back, and jerks his head at Renji. “Get moving.”

Renji grimaces, but he wraps an arm around Bazz's waist. “Fine, fine, now what?”

Bazz pulls the bag from his pocket, opening it with a thumb. “Now you hang on and trust me.”

“Shit,” Grimmjow says, but before he can pull away Bazz tosses the whole bag of Floo powder into the flames and watches them burn green. “Priya’s Herb Shop!” he calls, and drags Renji and Grimmjow into the flames. There’s a moment of confusion, a loud protest in his ear, and—

With a yelp and a crash, Renji goes spilling out of the fireplace, landing flat on his face in front of one of Priya’s displays. Grimmjow almost manages to stay on his feet, but as they spin out of the fire he lurches, trips over Bazz's conveniently placed boot, and snarls in indignation, toppling over right on top of Renji.

“Morning, Priya,” Bazz says, not even bothering to hide his smirk as he steps out of the grate.

Priya looks from Bazz to the cursing, struggling tangle of limbs on her floor, then lifts her magazine again. “Black,” she says, amused. “Keep the floor clear.”

“Sorry about that,” Bazz says, and doesn’t mean it. He kicks Grimmjow in the knee and says, “You heard her, get the hell up. How come I've got one arm and I'm more graceful than both of you combined?”

“Because you're a fucking _asshole_ ,” Grimmjow growls, and rises. He grabs Bazz by the collar, looking like he’s ready to start swinging, but before he can Renji scrambles up and grabs his arm.

“How about not in a place full of bottles,” he says, though he gives Bazz a dirty look, too. “Punch him outside, come on.”

Bazz shakes his grip off, then pushes out of the shop with a wave to Priya. “Fuck off, that’s how people travel here. I wasn’t about to put the two of you on a bus, and my place isn't anywhere close to the park.”

There’s a pause, almost startled. “You really live around here,” Renji says, like it’s a revelation.

Bazz glares at him. “What, you think I was taking you sightseeing?” He ignores Renji’s huff and keeps moving, fishing his keys out and pushing into his apartment building.

“Living like a _human_?” Grimmjow mutters, disgusted.

“I _am_ a human,” Bazz retorts. “Quincies are just a subset. Human with powers. Where the hell did you expect us to live, now that the Wandenreich is gone?”

“Oh,” Renji says, a frown in his voice, but Bazz doesn’t look back to see it. He’s not the only Quincy who escaped to the human world—far from it. The rest of them are either Yhwach’s subjects or those who hated him, though, and Bazz doesn’t fit into either camp. Getting the hell away from both seemed like the best option. Besides, Bazz has always been one to lick his wounds in private. He wasn’t about to join up with the other refugees to the Living World and try to keep his head down there. That’s never been his style.

Grimmjow grunts, like he’s still judging Bazz. “Shitty choice,” he says. “Not like Hueco Mundo’s that much better, but at least you can kill anyone who pisses you off there.”

Apparently Ichigo's been teaching him human rules, Bazz thinks, amused by the image. That’s got to be an uphill battle. “I only kill people who are trying to kill me,” he says, which is almost the truth. “Easier that way.”

“I guess so.” Grimmjow huffs, scanning the stairwell as they turn off onto Bazz's floor. He wrinkles his nose. “Shit, it _smells_.”

“Welcome to the human world,” Bazz says, dry, and opens his door, then stops dead.

“Bazz!” Harry says, scrambling upright on the couch. He looks entirely pleased with himself. “You're back!”

 _Shit_ , Bazz thinks. Giselle's bag is by the table, and her shoes are kicked off by the door, so clearly she didn’t abandon Harry. But the whole point of this was that she was supposed to keep Harry at her place for the day.

Maybe, Bazz thinks grimly, he should have told her that.

“Bazz?” Giselle leans around the edge of the kitchen. “Sorry, my roommate was having a bit of a touchy day, and I figured you’d rather Harry not end up the justification for whatever registry the Ministry wants to push on Beings next, so—” She breaks off, brows arching towards her hairline, and flicks a glance over Grimmjow, then Renji, top to toes. Bazz grimaces, bracing himself, and right on cue she laughs. “Oh, _Bazz_. Aren’t you feeling a little overconfident, going for _both_ of them?”

“You shut the hell up,” Bazz snaps, and refuses to acknowledge the fact that he’s flushing. “They’re helping me with a project, so get the hell out. And give me back my bottle of scotch.”

“You’ll never find it,” Giselle counters instantly, but she comes out into the main room and gives Renji a smile, wicked intent in every line of her body. “Hello there. I'm Giselle.”

“I—you— _girl_ —good!” Renji blurts, and Bazz groans, stalking over to throw himself on the couch beside Harry. He doesn’t want to have to watch this train wreck. “Good to meet you! Uh, you're. Face. You have a face.”

“Is he okay?” Harry asks warily, eyeing Renji like he can see the brain melting out his ears under the force of Giselle's charm.

“Veela make straight men stupid,” Bazz mutters. “And anyone else even vaguely attracted to women. Just—pretend you don’t know her.”

Grimmjow snickers, joining them and leaning back against the wall so he has a perfect view of Renji collapsing under Giselle's smile like slime mold. “Fucking hell, that’s worse than when Harribel unzipped her shirt. She’s impressive.”

Bazz remembers Harribel well enough to know exactly what would have distracted most people. He snorts, then looks from Grimmjow to Harry, who’s watching him with interest. Apparently they’re not getting out of this, so he sighs and jerks his head at Grimmjow. “Harry, this is Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Grimmjow, my nephew.”

Grimmjow raises a brow, even as a grin spreads over his face. “It’s personal, huh?” he drawls, and Bazz gives him a dark look.

“Fuck off,” he says shortly. “Harry, I have to leave in a bit. Want Giselle to stick around when she’s done eating Renji, or are you good?”

Harry looks desperately curious, but he doesn’t ask. “I'm good,” he says. “I’ll just do my summer homework while you're gone. Is everything okay?”

“Just taking care of a thing the Ministry didn’t bother to do,” Bazz says, waving his hand, and then turns, leaning over the back of the couch. Renji is still stuttering something, and he rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, Giselle, and leave him alone.”

“Protective, Bazz?” Giselle asks, but she casts him a wink, then collects her shoes. “You're sure you don’t want me to stay?”

“Yeah,” Bazz says sourly. “I want him to be useful again some time this year, thanks.”

“I bet you do,” Giselle says, grinning, and Bazz snarls and throws a pillow at her. She grabs her bag and ducks out the door, laughing, and it hits the coatrack instead. Bazz scowls, but glances back at Harry. “She feed you?”

“Yeah,” Harry says easily. “Did you know her roommate’s a vampire?”

“Innis? Yeah, we’ve met. She’s nice most of the time.”

“She’s cool,” is Harry's verdict, and he glances at Grimmjow, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Are you a wizard?”

“I'm a Hollow,” Grimmjow says, and grins, showing sharp white teeth. “And I eat souls.”

“Oh.” Wariness rising, Harry glances at Bazz again. “Do you need help?” he asks.

Reaching out, Bazz scuffs a hand through his hair. “It’s just a quick thing,” he promises. “But thanks, Harry.”

“Sure.” Harry smiles at him, then slides off the couch. “Miss Vance called about your shift tomorrow. I told her you’d call her back.”

Bazz grimaces. “Yeah, yeah. Weren’t you doing your homework?”

Harry's smile is all cheek. “Weren’t you leaving?” He ducks Bazz's half-hearted swat and disappears into his room, the door thudding shut behind him.

For a moment, Grimmjow stares after him, then drops his gaze to Bazz, one brow rising. “Living like a human,” he says, like he’s testing something.

“I _am_ a human,” Bazz says crankily, shoving to his feet. “I told you that. And I'm just here to get some stored reishi. We’re not staying, so don’t get too comfortable.”

Grimmjow snickers, raising his hands, but his eyes stay on Bazz. Bazz ignores the weight of his gaze, passing Renji and kicking him in the shin. “Hey, shithead, pick your jaw up off the floor,” he snaps, then ducks into his bedroom to grab the stored vials he’s been hoarding, ignoring the sound of Renji spluttering behind him.

This can still work, he tells himself. It will have to.


End file.
